Adam And Eve
by Dorothy J. Crump

Aunts and uncles, cousins and kin,
begin way back, where we all begin.

Adam and Eve in a garden alone,
with fauna and flowers. This was their home.

Not to eat of the tree of knowledge,
was the only law they had to acknowledge.

But lurking around up in a tree,
temptation sat as mean as could be.

His eyes were bright, his intent was strong
to make this Eve accomplish a wrong.

As Eve appeared by the tree below,
the snake slid out to start his show!

"Listen closely little Eve, and you will hear what you can believe.
On this tree where apples grow, take a bite and you will know,
everything that God knows now. What can you lose anyhow?"

"Oh" said Eve, with much surprise,
as the snake drooped down and looked in her eyes.

"Of this tree, God said not to eat,
but they do look good, and red, and sweet."

"Come on, said the snake, give it a try.
Give it a sniff, have a taste, it's a special fruit you shouldn't waste."

Eve's mouth did water and her senses left,
and before she knew it she was bereft.

She took the apple and took a bite.
Right there and then she changed our plight.

Innocent Adam, who wasn't aware of the snake or the apple,
or of what Eve did dare, noticed at once, a leaf she did wear.

"Hey Adam, Eve said, taste of this fruit,
it's great, it's delicious, it's really a hoot."

So, Adam did eat and jumped to his feet,
and saw Eve with a wanton grin.

"You gave me the fruit forbidden to us,
and now we have grievously sinned."

"OK, THAT'S IT", came the voice from on high.
"DID YOU THINK THAT I WOULD LET THAT SLIP BY?

I TOLD YOU GUYS, THAT YOU COULD EAT,
OF ALL OTHER FRUITS JUST AS SWEET.

TO DISOBEY ME IS VERY BAD,
AND NOW YOU HAVE LOST ALL THAT YOU HAD.

BECAUSE OF THIS SIN YOU HAVE MADE ME MAD.
I T GRIEVES ME TO DO THIS, BECAUSE OF YOUR SIN,
ALL OF THE WORLD'S GRIEF WILL NOW BEGIN.

FROM THE SWEAT OF YOUR BROW, YOU WILL EARN YOUR BREAD.
YOU COULD HAVE LIVED HERE RENT FREE INSTEAD.

YOUR CHILDREN YOU'LL BEAR, IN SORROW AND PAIN,
AND BUILD YOUR OWN SHELTER FROM STORM AND RAIN.

GROW YOUR OWN FOOD, AND TOIL IN THE SOIL.
EVE HAS BEEN A VERY BAD GOIL.

ADAM, YOU DUNCE, IT ONLY TOOK ONCE TO FALL INTO THE TRAP,
SO NOW YOU CAN WORK THE REST OF YOUR LIFE,
YOU POOR INNOCENT SAP."

With heads hung low and holding hands,
they left the garden at God's commands.

So if there are relatives we could have done without,
it was Adam and Eve without a doubt.

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The Teddy Bear Coat
by Dorothy J. Crump

I had a coat I couldn't kill,
That teddy bear coat I can see it still.

My mom had bought it, it was then the style,
brown and fuzzy with buttons that smile.

It lasted me from junior high to high,
I thought that coat wild never die.

I hated that coat with such a passion,
I wore it in and out of fashion.

I dragged it behind me, hoping it would tear,
I was beginning to believe it was really a bear.

I took that coat and laid it on the road,
and watched a truck with an enormous load.

Run it over and drag it behind,
but that old coat just didn't mind.

It was still in my closet when I grew up,
I had that coat since it was a pup.

I think my mom gave it to some other child,
who liked teddy bear coats with buttons that smiled.

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My Mother's Pocketbook
by Dorothy J. Crump

To see my mother's pocketbook hanging from her arm
would bring no special notice or cause no great alarm.
A very private thing it was, that pocketbook she'd clutch,
and we kids always knew that's one thing we shouldn't touch.
My mama's bag was bottomless and full of wondrous things
like peanut butter sandwiches, hot dogs and onion rings.


You don't have to believe me, and there's no way I could know
how she'd produce a hot dog whenever we went to the show,
or malted milks and pickles, candy bars and such.
You'd never think mom's pocketbook could ever hold so much.
Nothing ever spilled; it was always wrapped so neat
but suddenly, there it was as soon as I got in my seat.


The theater would darken and the picture show world start,
and I could hear paper being gently torn apart.
The people all around us could never have a doubt
that somewhere in that theater was a hot dog with sauerkraut.
And then, as if by magic, a malted would appear
from somewhere in her pocketbook-the best trick of thy year!
She even had a wash cloth to wipe my hands and face
so there'd be no bits of evidence whenever we left that place.

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"Hello, Dear, It's Mother"
(A christmas Poem)
by Dorothy J. Crump

This poem was written Christmas eve of 1971, and is based on a true happening the author witnessed.

Christmas eve day, by a phone in a market stood
a little old lady with a dime in her pocketbook.

Evidently alone, and no where to stay, she dialed a number, and I heard her say:
"Hello, Dear, it's Mother. I'd like to spend Christmas with you,
and you know since dad's gone I do get awfully blue."

A short silence prevailed and her smile soon turned to gloom,
as the voice on the other end said "Gee, Mom, I just have no Room."

"I've company you know, I don't know what to say.
I've no room for you on this Christmas day."

"Well, I'll call your brother John, maybe he'll have room for me."
Evidently the answer was, "no, Mom, he and his family are having Christmas with me."

"Well, I just thought, it's Christmas you know... Oh well, that's all right,
there are friends that I know. Have a nice Christmas and a Happy New Year,
and don't feel bad, I love you all, dear."

With that she slowly hung up the phone and went out the door,
and my eyes filled with tears; and I saw her no more.

But I think when she got home to her flat, she might have cried and quietly sat-
remembering the time when her children were all small,
and if it weren't for Mom, there'd be no Christmas at All!

With cookies and cakes each kid ate with joy,
and she could still see the faces of her little girl and boy.

I think maybe, with her dreams of the past, and with the hurt of today...
she should couldn't last.

And maybe the Lord looked down on her gloom,
and reached out and said, "MOTHER, I HAVE ROOM."

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Time and Wind
by Dorothy J. Crump

When I was just a little girl,
my mom and I would sit,
upon a blanket on the beach,
and she would sit and knit.

The sun would shine, the wind would blow,
and then she would ask me;
"Did you know, the wind changes the clouds around
and different things you'll see,
if you will lie yourself, down here next to me?"

And so I lay upon my back,
and watched the pictures change,
as one cloud joined another,
and each would rearrange.

Now one became a lamb,
or even maybe a cow,
and peace and wonder filled my heart...
What happened to that now?

The wind still blows,
the clouds still change.
What happened to mom and me?

Time and wind have rearranged,
more than the clouds you see.

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Your Treasure
by Dorothy J. Crump

Don't hurry your day or wish it away,
time is very dear!
Savor the sun, and try to love everyone.
Cherish the time that you are here.
Slow down your pace with the human race,
or you'll miss all that is sweet.
Take stock of yourself, don't count your
wealth as gold that's piled up at your feet.
Find your treasure in pease of mind,
knowing that God loves you.
You'll live every minute if you put God in it,
and find your treasures too.

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A Symphony of Love
by Dorothy J. Crump

Two lovers lay sleeping in the quiet of their room after a night of sweet passion and loving words that filled their beings with even more warm and liquid emotions. They lay sleeping deeply, molded into each other’s arms, more like one person rather than two. As in a symphony, the music of their passion still flows gently, yet fiercely through their bodies causing one to wreathe as in a begging motion against the other. Softly, one gently pushes closer and the other welcomes the warm advances and responds in a slow welcoming submission. The symphony continues. Warm and familiar fingers reach out and touch, lips meet, and as the strings of a beautiful violin reverberates, sensations spring to life even in sleep, awakening passions that will reach a crescendo as in a symphony, but never really is sated or has a finale. Beautiful music and beautiful love have much in common, for isn't the most beautiful music written for the love of itself? It is as though the sound of one instrument cries out to the sound of another until they join and meld into a magical wave of oneness, never ending never sated.
And the symphony continues . . .